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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654692">Thoughts, Words and Deeds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinaqueen/pseuds/reinaqueen'>reinaqueen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, I Don't Even Know, Lalafell Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Some Humor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:14:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654692</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinaqueen/pseuds/reinaqueen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aymeric de Borel thought he had been able to hide his true feelings from the Warrior of Light for quite some time, now. A shame the literal only person he hid his feelings from was himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aymeric de Borel/Original Character(s), Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Haurchefant Greystone/Original Female Character(s), Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Thoughts, Words and Deeds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wanted an Aymeric x my WoL fic for my birthday, and since I can't pay for a commission, I just made a commission for myself.  I'm also really, really glad I got to finish just in time, as well.</p><p>It's a bit hard to not use more childish words to describe lalas tbh, big respect to people who can do it.</p><p>Also once again, big thank you to hikarimew for beta reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As his slender fingers brushed the curtain apart slightly and he peeked through the window, right foot tapping nervously, the man looked at least half his age. Luckily, he had asked his few servants to leave him by himself until his visitor’s arrival; had he not - and though he did not enjoy thinking of his trusted servants so -, Aymeric de Borel could already imagine what sort of rumors would be spread by his anxious, childish display. </p><p> </p><p><em> It’s the third time and still I feel as nervous as the first </em> , he thought as he raised a pocket watch - a gift from said visitor, and probably one of his most prized possessions - and saw how terribly, predictably late she was: a full five minutes. A sigh, and back to the window he was. “I do hope nothing more urgent has come her way…” And he saw his own, small smile reflected in the glass, as he remembered her answer when, once, he said something similar. “ <em> ‘Trouble is kinda the thing that will always show up in the Warrior of Light’s way’, </em> huh.” Just as he thought to look at the time again - <em> six whole minutes! </em>- he saw it; the flutter of a clear dress in the wind, contrasted by raven-black hair arranged in two neat buns on the top of her head, crossing the street to the Borel manor in her cute Lalafellin hopsteps.</p><p> </p><p>Swiflty, he went to the door of his private study, opening it at the same time as his butler went to knock on it, facing the surprised quasi-horror in his face as he almost rapped on his lord’s face with his knuckles. “I-I’m sorry, sir, I-”</p><p> </p><p>“Do not worry, Clouchont, it was my fault. I assume our guest has arrived?”</p><p> </p><p>The old butler fixed his spectacles on his face, recomposing himself as quickly as his position required. “Yes, my lord. Lady Jai’Yana has arrived, and awaits at the parlour, as per your instructions.” Clouchont leaned in, a wry smile in his wrinkled face. “I once again have been unable to convince her to let go of her possessions, my lord.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I did not expect you to, Clouchont. Don’t you worry about that.” Aymeric gave a grateful nod and sprightly went down the stairs, barely waiting for the manservant’s steps to follow, making a beeline to the parlour, only stopping at the corridor to last check himself out in the mirror. Though some might find his simple, white silk shirt unbecoming of one on his position - never mind being the head of the Borel house, but for the head of the House of Lords -, it was perfectly passable to what was their third private meeting. In fact, it had been a request of hers that, at least in private, he just dressed comfortably. Happy as he was at the idea of becoming closer to her, it still made him feel somehow exposed. It did not stop him for long; a quick fixing of his hair with a perfectly discreet wooden comb, a deeper breath to release the tension and into the parlor he went.</p><p> </p><p>The parlour was by far the fanciest room in the entire manor. As it was a sign of status, the furniture and décor were the best in the house, as was the tea set that waited for them in one of the tables. A large painting of a landscape hung above the fireplace, instead of the more traditional portrait of the lord of the house, a decision Aymeric was more than happy to take; he much preferred the sweeping, snowbound vistas of Camp Falconhead in the sunlight than the hours-long, cramp-filled portrait he was forced to have of himself before the Republic. And in front of the fireplace, there she stood, head cutely raised to look at the painting, seeming to not have noticed his arrival.</p><p> </p><p><em> Beautiful as always </em>, his sharp intake of air seemed to say. He didn’t remember seeing her in that dress before, a long, white, short-sleeved dress, with just a splash of pastel pink at the edges, and a cute pink bow on her back. Behind the massive, black form of the greatsword on her back, the tip almost scraping the ground next to her pink sandals, of course. She soon turned to him, a kind, mischievous smile on her lips, and the gaze in her ruby eyes that made his heart skip a beat.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry I’m late, Aymeric. Had some trouble choosing an outfit”, she said as she approached. He resisted the urge to kneel - though taller than most Lalafells, she still was barely tall enough to get to this thigh - and smiled, gesturing to one of the chairs.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you worry, my friend. Just having you over is a blessing in itself.” He saw her beam at his words and waited for her to walk to the chair, leaving her greatsword at the side, just in arm’s reach, and felt his smile grow at the adorable hop Lalafells would do to get up on chairs. It did take him some time to realize he spent a second too long admiring her, but hopefully not enough for her to notice. She produced a small parcel out of her purse and put it on the table, so delicately the cups and spoons barely rattled. </p><p> </p><p>“I brought you a gift, as usual. Some of that Ul’dahn coffee you like”, she said as Aymeric started filling both of their cups with the dark liquid, the same brand as the one on the table. It was, once again, a concession of his; after noticing how anxious she seemed when someone else would prepare her drinks or food - and after learning of the many, many reasons why - he agreed to, both to assuage her and, in her words, become more intimate, he would serve both when he played host. “I had to deal with some issues there recently, so I thought of you. ‘Tis only fair I keep your stock full, after all.”</p><p> </p><p>“You shouldn’t worry about such a thing, Jai. But I must admit I’m fully glad you do. I do love them indeed.” <em> And most importantly, I know you love them too. </em> “But have you fared lately, my friend?” Aymeric finally sat himself, in front of her, cup in his hand as he watched the Warrior of Light, the sword of Eorzea, joyfully fill her cup with spoonfuls and spoonfuls of sugar. A sight he would probably never get tired of. And his smile widened as the quiet, stoic hero in front of him soon started sharing her last few days, talking so much she must have been holding back her words for quite a long time. He paid attention to every single word, loving this intimate moment, hearing of her latest adventures with the Scions, or the shenanigans of her Immortal Flames’ squad, or the increasingly quirky situations in the Vath tribe, ever the good listener, sharing her laughter and joy and excitement. And as he drank some of the perfectly warm, bitter coffee - with some cream, of course - he allowed his mind to wonder a bit, so immensely glad to have all of this for himself.</p><p> </p><p>It had been some seven or eight months since the Dragonsong War had officially come to an end, with the Warrior of Light slaying the greatwyrm in the Steps of Faith, and the institution of the Republic of Ishgard. Busy as this tumultuous period was, thanks in no small part to her, things had finally started to have some semblance of peace. And with said peace, the first in a thousand years, finally showing it’s face, Aymeric had decided to finally allow himself to voice what he felt for her.</p><p> </p><p>Which didn’t really work, for during dinner - and such a delightful one, at that - they were interrupted by more trouble. But those feelings were still there, and as such, once things calmed down a bit, he invited her again, now thrice, for such small dates, twice in this same manor and once at a private room in the Seventh Heaven, in Mor Dhona. And still he waited for a moment he could pour his heart to her, ever patient, ever looking for an opportunity. </p><p> </p><p>He knew, for quite some time, he harbored such feelings. Though he didn’t realize exactly what they were until the fall of Thordan, his admiration for the girl had long come through the turbulent path of obsession, fascination, infatuation and, finally, love. He never really thought that would happen; as open-minded as he was, the idea of falling for an Ul’dahn Lalafellin had never crossed his mind before meeting her, and even when he first heard of her exploits, all he could think is how admirable such a person must be. Even in their first meeting, all he felt for her was a deep, polite respect, for her deeds spoke by themselves. In retrospect, it was only at Snowcloak he had started to really pay attention to her; more specifically, at her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>A politician by nature, Aymeric felt some degree of pride at his ability to measure their peers’ intentions by small, telltale signs; a shift in their eyes, a tap of a foot, a hard swallow. He was used to a world where eyes were cold as steel and hard as stone. </p><p>Even if her black, pointy hat covered one eye of the then-thaumaturge - later, somewhat snidely corrected to black mage - the remaining one intrigued Aymeric as he saw her fight. Ruby red eyes that seemed to glitter by themselves, as if a furnace burned behind them. Triumphant, almost bloodthirsty eyes that reflected the flames she cast at her enemies; the quiet embers of righteous fury as he told them Ishgard would not join the Alliance; the kind warmth of a hearth as she gazed at master Leveilleur or the Scions....</p><p> </p><p>And soon, he received word that she, young Alphinaud and Tataru would come as refugees to Ishgard. He saw new light in her eyes, then; the nervous, metal-sharp glint of suspicion as her eyes darted through every corner of the Holy See, looking for enemies in the shadows; the red-hot fires of anger, when he first saw her after shunning the Black and taking the greatsword instead, taking her first steps into the Abyss. Inferno given life, flames not unlike those he had heard that came from Ifrit, as Thordan and the Heaven’s Ward finally set their plans into motion, only hatred and vengeance and sorrow seeming to fuel her. The dull, lifeless look of fake gems after she put them all to the sword. And, though slowly and painfully, he saw them regain their light; ever-changing, but strong and steady at all times, much like they owner. Very glad, and not a little proud, Aymeric kept mental notes of all the kinds of eyes and looks he was lucky enough to see, and how many, he imagined, only he had seen. He had seen her at her worst, and at her best; and he couldn’t wait for what others the future might hold.</p><p> </p><p>And then, he saw as her small hand went for the table for another biscuit, and the glimmer of the silver band on her left ring finger, an aquamarine stone embedded at the top. The same colour as His eyes. And, for what was the third time, Aymeric felt himself deflate as he held himself back from closing his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>If the end of the war was some eight months ago, then Haurchefant’s death would have been only some five. The Fortemps knight, the bravest man Aymeric has ever met, fell in battle to protect her, the Warrior of Light… His fiancé. Aymeric knew how much in love they were; neither was ever particularly good of holding themselves back in this regard, after all. And if Aymeric, who was at worst a colleague and at best a distant friend of the man, missed him dearly, then how much worse was it for her? For months he had witnessed her, a fiend clad in flesh, hatred and sorrow seeming ready to burst from her small frame as she bathed in the blood of dragon and beast and knight and god alike. She had seen her cry, twice; once at the Vault, and once at his office, swearing to heaven and hell death to her enemies. What manner of tears had she shed to him, then, when he comforted her during the first days of her exile? What tender visages she gave to him in private, both in and out of their chambers - for Haurchefant never really hid what he was like, and so, surely someone who reciprocate his feelings would give themselves to him - ? Aymeric could only wonder what sorts of looks and words and acts she had bestowed only to him, and Aymeric felt his mood sour somewhat, knowing full well he could probably never compare himself to a true knight such as him. </p><p> </p><p>And as he realized that pain turned into jealousy and even anger in his heart, anger at the man who saw sights he could not, shame and guilt washed through him, for allowing his heart to feel as such at the man who died for the home and woman he loved. So much so, he didn’t notice as his companion grew quiet, then sighed and cleared her throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Aymeric? Are you alright?” Her voice sweeter and more tender than before, making his heart skip a beat even through the continuous shame that tried to put out his spirit.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes, I am fine. Just a bit tired from my duties, is all.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh-huh. Alright, then.” Jai took a sip from her cup and crossed her legs, both hanging almost a foot over the ground. “Would you mind if, for a moment, I dropped the formalities?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not, my friend! You are free to speak as you wish, always.” Aymeric perked himself up, giving her his full attention as she took another sip, sounding strangely as a whetstone in a sharp dagger, for a second. <em> Perhaps I really am tired, if I can imagine such thin- </em></p><p> </p><p>“May I ask, then, if you plan on growing a fucking pair anytime soon?” And as she took another sip, Aymeric’s last conscious thought was more akin to the cracking of glass. Though it did sound like it had come from out of the parlour.</p><p> </p><p>The stab had been less painful than this.</p><p> </p><p>And, relentless as a warrior she was, she kept going.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry for the abrasive choice of words, and for monologuing a bit, but Aymeric, dearest, this is our third date. Fourth, if you consider the dinner. When it comes to me, you wear your heart on your sleeve, so I know what you feel. Everyone knows. <em> Thancred </em> knew, for gods’ sake, since before the grand melee.” She took one more sip and let the cup down, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You know what that ever-cheekier Alphy- Alphinaud said to me, when I told I had plans for this afternoon?” She stuck her nose up in the air, mimicking with outstanding accuracy the young Leveilleur. “‘Are you going to go meet Father?’. You’re really not fooling anyone, dear. But half the time we’re together, you look like a kid trying to hide a gift to their parents, and in the other half, you look like you’re ready to apologize, cry, or both. So pray, tell me: what is the matter?”</p><p> </p><p>To her credit, she did apologize, and waited for his answer patiently. Harsh as her words were, he could see genuine worry in her eyes - and just a little bit of hurt in there, the final push he needed to force his voice out, trembling as it was.</p><p> </p><p>“...It is true, and I apologize. Yes, I… I do fancy you, immensely. But…” As she saw him struggle with his words, she held the snark back as much as she could. It still showed up, but the tinge of doubt softened it.</p><p> </p><p>“....But what, Aymeric? Is it about class? About nationality? Race, perhaps?”</p><p> </p><p>“No! No, Fury have mercy, no. It has absolutely nothing to do with you, I assure you. But…” And as he gazed once again at the ring, understanding shone in her eyes, and she held the finger with her other hand. She kept quiet, however, waiting for him to continue.</p><p> </p><p>“...I do not know how much Haurchefant meant to you. I may know it to an extent, but I can never fully know. I… I cannot help but think that I, somehow, might be intruding in something I shouldn’t. Taking something, a place that isn’t mine to have. Shoes that I cannot, and don’t think I ever will, be able to fill. And… It shames me how I can, in my heart, think to ever try to replace him, or to ever covet what he had.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence stretched between them as Aymeric hung his head low, much less dignified and noble than he usually looked. Now, the Lord Commander was but a man. An adult man, making himself more vulnerable than he ever had, and only hoping that whatever comes next, it’s swift and merciful.</p><p> </p><p>It took her some time to answer, voice trembling as much as his’ - though the sharp edge on her tongue was there, still. </p><p>“...Thank you for sharing this with me, Aymeric. I know it must have been hard. But I want you to know right out of the bat: you’re being stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>He kept silent, head still low. He only braced himself, barely hearing the world outside, his heartbeat seeming to drown every sound except her voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Aymeric, do you know why I loved Haurchie? Why I fell for him? Why I accepted the engagement, rushed though as it might have been?” Her voice seemed to creep closer, Aymeric still unable to raise his eyes to hers’. “Loyal. Brave. Strong. Just. Passionate. Kind. Those are the qualities I look for in a partner, always. I cannot, in good consciousness, settle for anything less than that.” A small pause, and he could almost hear her nodding, as if conceding something. <em> She does talk a lot with her body, after all. </em>“Granted, if it is just for fun, I can compromise on some of these. But to have someone on my side ‘till death do us part? I will not have anything less. And Haurchie was all of these things.” Aymeric seemed to sink deeper into himself with every word, already knowing the conclusion. He only wanted her to deal the coup de grace already, at this point.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, a small hand pulled his face up by the chin. Though it hadn’t been really quiet, she had crossed the table on foot, standing just tall enough to be able to look at him in the eye as long as he remained seated. And without dropping a single biscuit. </p><p> </p><p>“All of those things, I see in you as well.” Her small fingers tenderly drove a stray lock of hair behind his ears, her eyes already showing him a new look - warmer and kinder and more beautiful than any one he had ever seen. “It is true, you won’t replace Haurchie. No one ever will. I don’t need nor want a replacement. I want you. It’s as simple as that, dearest.”</p><p> </p><p>Time seemed to stop for Aymeric, the warmth on her calloused fingers, somehow rough yet softer than anything he ever felt stroking his cheek, and he felt himself choke. “I… I don’t know if he…”</p><p> </p><p>“If he’d be fine with it?” She gave a small shrug. “I have asked myself the same thing, time and time again. And while it still feels as if I’m just excusing myself  by saying so… I do believe he would not want me to dwell forever on him. That he would want me to move on.” And she smiled broadly, taking a handkerchief out of her purse and wiping the small tears forming in Aymeric’s eyes. “And this I know: he would be overjoyed to know I chose you.” </p><p> </p><p>Aymeric laughed, taking a moment to recompose himself. He thought he heard a whisper come from her, something about Y’Mithra and how there were no complaints about that, but surely that was just his imagination. He held her wrist ever so softly, the warmth of her skin and her smell making him wonder how he could have ever felt things could’ve gone wrong.  Though some doubt remained in his heart still, at the moment, he would take whatever small boons the Fury gave him.</p><p> </p><p>“Now that that’s settled, dearest, what do you plan on doing?” Jai jumped out the table, landing neatly in his right thigh. She felt him freeze immediately, and let out an impish laugh as she watched him struggle with his words - a welcome first, from the ever eloquent Lord Commander.</p><p> </p><p>“I… I suppose I should start by apologizing for the confusion.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which, yeah, it would be a good idea, but not for a start.” Denied. He swallowed hard when she made herself more comfortable at her new chair, trying to keep his composure and not at all think about the softness on his thigh. “Try again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then… Assure you of my intentions, of cours-” </p><p> </p><p>“I know your intentions, yes. Try again.”</p><p> </p><p>“I…” <em> Perhaps I should have thought this through beforehand. </em>Aymeric felt sweat on his back, trying desperately to think of what he was supposed to do in such a situation. It was novel for him - after all, he never was one to flirt unnecessarily - but surely he should know what should be done. He was a leader of men, brave in the face of adversity. Surely, someone in his position should know what to do, despite the many, many distractions, and…</p><p> </p><p>“Oh for hells’ sake.” And Aymeric was somewhat forcefully reminded of how strong the Warrior of Light really was, as she pulled his face down with ease, by the collar, into a kiss. And experiencing that, the soft touch of her small lips on his, was finally enough. For the entire duration, Aymeric’s racing mind finally went silent, not bothering him with doubts or questions anymore.</p><p>He barely felt the time pass, as the afternoon sun went down and hues of twilight orange and purple shone through the windows. The coffee now cold, and the fireplace still out - <em> Thank you, Clouchont </em> - and yet Aymeric felt warmer and more comfortable than he ever did before. Oh how painful it was as she finally broke the kiss, eyes brimming with pure, unadulterated love - and just a bit of an impish fire that made him shudder in excitement and just a bit of fear.</p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t things a lot easier when we stop thinking and just <em> do </em>? It would serve you well to learn that from me.” And another peck in his lips as she stood on the chair, between his thighs. “Shall we go, then?”</p><p> </p><p>Visible confusion spread through Aymeric’s face immediately. “Go… Where, exactly?”</p><p> </p><p>“To your bedroom, of course.” </p><p> </p><p><em> Now </em> the breaking sound really sounded to come from outside, and he heard Clouchont’s sharp gasp as he dropped something just out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>“..Eh?”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, ‘tis our fourth date and all. We’re already in your place, and as I know you’re not wont to carry clubs in your trousers, you’ve been fine with it for quite some time now. And may I just say, I have really looked forward to this for a long time now, myself.” She shrugged and licked her lips, fully glad to see the man blush and fumble in place. <em> So easy. </em>“Once again, dear, it’d do you wonders to just not think and go through the motions. And, if you’ll allow me, you’ll soon learn a lot about said motions. Now…” She stood at the tip of her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and dealt the coup de grâce, biting the lobe of his ear as she whispered. “I take you’ll be happy to oblige, love?”</p><p> </p><p>Aymeric heard the voice of reason in the back of his mind. How improper this might be, especially so soon; how he should, instead, try and prove himself worthy of her. He heard all of that and more, and promptly shoved it out of the room and locked the doors. A hard swallow and a curt nod, and she kissed his cheek, just at the corner of his mouth, beaming.</p><p> </p><p>“Won’t you be a dear, then, and carry me there? It would be improper for me to escort you to your own room, after all.” And she threw herself at his arms, Aymeric barely able to hold her properly in the closest thing to a princess carry as he could. Though he tried to hold back his excitement, the quick pace up the stairs - and the barely visible look of scandal in the old butler’s face as they zoomed past him -, she laughed mischievously, nesting herself in his chest, feeling the warmth and hearing his heartbeat, close to bursting in love and joy. </p><p> </p><p>And for the first time in Twelve knew how many months, as he closed the door of his bedchambers behind them, she felt peace.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>As used as she was to sleeping in full armor, both for safety and due to exhaustion, waking up was always the worst part. The full weight of the dark plate on her body always made sure to force her back into a reality much colder than steel. And she sat up in bed and started her morning routine; first picking up her greatsword, just at hand’s reach beside the bed, and only then thinking of washing herself.</p><p> </p><p>The already rough hands of one who now lived by the sword and not tomes had seen better days than this. Small scars marred the skin, wounds from shrapnel so small they’d go through the gaps in the plates. But her left ring finger was intact, both bands - one silver with an aquamarine, and one gold with a sapphire - in perfect state, polished to a mirror, and she would rather die than let something happen to them.</p><p>The armor had seen better days as well. The otherwise jet black, spiky cuirass was filled with scuffs and no small number of dents, a few spots having had their plates hastily fixed with parts of other suits, a mark of hasty, urgent maintenance of one who couldn’t take a few days off for some sort of armor TLC. The dark sword was in the best state by far; the finish had been lost quite some time ago, but the edge was as sharp as the sword’s owner.</p><p> </p><p>Jai’Yana finished washing her face and looked through the windows of the Pendants’ room. She could see the orange hues of the first lights of dawn in the small patch of sky free of Light over Lakeland, and allowed herself a sad smile.<em> I really can’t have a decent night’s sleep, can I?  </em></p><p> </p><p>She didn’t allow herself to dwell much longer at that window. After all, though she could see the first rays of the sun, she could also see the infinite bright skies that loomed all around the Crystarium, ever at the gates, always seeming closer than the day before. And as she did, she set her helmet on top of the bed, sword by its side, and pulled out of her bags her pendant, the blue stone etched with Halone’s triple spears. One hand holding the pendant at her chest, one on the sword hilt, she quietly prayed as she once learned to with Aymeric. </p><p> </p><p>Though, her prayers were a lot different than his’, especially since Ala Mhigo. Especially since everything.</p><p> </p><p>“O Halone, receive of us this woman, Your humble servant. Raise her up to Your bosom and grant her glory everlasting.”</p><p> </p><p>And as she finished her prayer, helmet and sword in their place, only the pendant remained in her hand as she walked out of the room, her last prayers and thoughts turned to the one who had her heart. </p><p> </p><p>“Grant Us this victory.”</p>
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